Just Across The Tracks
by CharlieRaindrop
Summary: Brittana AU. He was a boy from the wrong side of the tracks. She was the head cheerleader and the perfect student. When Brett Pierce transfers to McKinley High, can this dog teach a girl some new tricks? Badass/Boy!Britt
1. Cigarettes and Motorcycles

**Summary: He was a boy from the wrong side of the tracks. She was the head cheerleader and the perfect student. When Brett Pierce transfers to McKinley High, can this dog teach a girl some new tricks? Badass/Boy!Britt**

**Chapter One**

Brett Pierce leaned back casually against his black Harley Davidson, sunglasses perched snugly on his slightly tanned nose. He slowly pulled the lit cigarette in his hand to his smooth lips, inhaling the smoke and reveling in the calm feeling that washed over him.

So what if he was underage?

He didn't care.

Might as well call him honey badger with all the fucks he gave.

The blonde-haired boy's lips quirked upward when he glanced at the time flashing on his cellphone, school had started over twenty minutes ago.

So, logically, he was right on time.

He pushed off his bike and threw what was left of his cigarette on the floor, smashing it in a circular motion with his shoe. Brett dug his hands in his jean pockets, heading toward the school entrance in no particular hurry.

The blonde's steps halted momentarily as he reached the top of the steps, a flash of child-like worry glinting in his eyes.

A new school, new people, new problems-

_No._

That was the old Brett.

This was the new Brett, and New Brett was stronger than he was before.

And holy shit, he felt like he had a personality disorder with all these different Brett's.

He wouldn't be surprised if some burrito worker named Lola was actually taking up residence in his body as well.

Didn't really matter, he liked Mexican food anyways.

Running a hand through the messy locks on his head, Brett sighed and pushed forward toward the rest of his senior year.

* * *

"Alright, class. One more time! _Hola, como estas," _Mr. Schuester clapped his hands excitedly, eyeing his room in determination.

There was a collective groan from the teens seated, all of them mumbling the greeting for the tenth time that morning.

Except for the weird smelling kid in the back.

He had been saying 'taco' for a good half an hour now.

No one questioned it.

The real question was, why were they learning simple greetings when they were two months into the school year?

The curly-headed teacher looked up from the whiteboard when he heard the door open and close rather loudly, eyes locking with tinted sunglasses.

Well, okay.

"Can I help you?" Mr. Schue asked confusedly, looking at his other students as if they held the answers.

_Clearly he was doing a bang up job at teaching, _Brett thought sarcastically.

"Brett Pierce." He offered bluntly, not bothering to remove his sunglasses or his hands from his pockets.

"Oh, right!" Schue exclaimed, shuffling papers around his desk for god knows what reason, "Class, this is our new student Brett Pierce. Why don't you tell the class about yourself, Brett?"

Wow. He felt like he was in kindergarten again.

Nevertheless, he strode purposefully to the front of the room and turned to face the crowd of teens. Some looked on in awe and curiosity, and others fiddled with pens and pencils.

Granted, all of those paying attention were all of the female variety.

"What do you want to know?" Brett drawled lazily, fixing his eyes on the teacher.

Mr. Schue shrugged but the smile didn't leave his face. "Anything you'd like to share about yourself."

"Like why the hell are your pants so tight, Jonas Brother?" A guy with a mohawk yelled from the back of the room, causing the students to erupt in giggles.

"Puck-" Mr. Schue started, but was quickly cut off.

"No, no it's fine, Teach. _Puck_, is it?" Brett inquired with a broad smile, leaning back against the large desk in the front of the room.

"Who wants to know?" Puck asked smugly, folding his arms against his chest.

He had no idea what he had just started.

"Well, that would be me, Puck._ Brett Pierce_. Pleased to meet your acquaintance," the blonde began tapping his fingers against the wooden surface. "You probably would have heard that earlier if your head hadn't been so far up your ass. That's okay though, but isn't it animal cruelty to keep that squirrel on your head suffocated for so long?"

If the room had been laughing before, they were in hysterics now.

Puck's mouth open and closed like a flabbergasted fish, finally looking out the window as if the whole conversation had never occurred.

"Mr. Pierce, we do not tolerate that type of language in my classroom. Especially on your first day," Mr. Schue scolded, but Brett swore he saw a smile ghosting across his face. "To the office, right now."

The blonde shrugged and saluted with two fingers to Puck, sauntering out without a second glance back.

When the door slammed shut behind him, the whispers broke loose.

"He is _so_ hot!"

"I could totally just eat him up!"

"He's...interesting." A sultry voice commented as well from the middle of the room, a place reserved for only the most popular.

In other words, a place reserved for Santana Marie Lopez.

* * *

Brett wasn't released from the office until after his first class had ended, now walking down the slightly-crowded hallway.

McKinley's faculty was a joke, as he was sent off with a waggle of a finger and a "firm" warning.

Though he wasn't complaining, he didn't need to get into any large amounts of trouble.

There were certain people that depended on him.

As he made his way to his second class, he noticed a small brunette being pushed into a locker, her books that were previously clutched in her arms now scattering the floor.

Damn the gentleman side of him.

He veered off his course, reaching down to collect the papers and stood up, having to tilt his head down to see the smaller girl.

He handed her the papers wordlessly.

"Oh, thank you! I'd prefer to thank you by name but I haven't seen you around here before. I assume that you are a new student, as most people wouldn't stop to help someone like me-" The girl rambled, Brett's jaw nearly dropping at her ability to speak without taking a breath.

"Woah, simmer down, firecracker." The blonde held his hands up as if in surrender. "Yeah, I'm new. And I'm not heartless, despite what you may or may not hear, so yeah, I'm going to help." He shrugged noncommittally.

The smile on the brunette's face grew impossibly wider as he spoke.

Like really. It was starting to creep him out.

But for some reason, he couldn't help but feel comfortable talking to her. She had a warm presence. Even after he promised himself that any characteristics of the old Brett were to stay hidden, he couldn't help but be nice to this stranger.

"I'm Rachel Berry." She stated proudly, reaching out a hand which Brett awkwardly shook.

"Uh, I'm-it's Brett. My name's Brett." He rubbed at the back of his neck, not used to be civil with others.

"It's a pleasure! Maybe you'd like to be introduced to some of my friends, seeing as you're new here. Unless you don't want to, that would be perfectly fine as well-"

"Yeah, whatever." Brett cut off another rant quickly, eyes drifting around the hall.

And that was when he saw her.

_Really _saw her.

Her body was clad in a tight cheerleading uniform and her shiny, thick hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. Her cheekbones were prominent, complimented by full lips.

He could feel his little soldier began to salute, so he quickly looked away and back toward Rachel, realizing she was still talking to him.

"Who's that?" He cut in once again, nodding his head toward the beautiful girl.

Wait, beautiful? The New Brett did _not _say beautiful.

Maybe sexy, hot, hot-mama-licious, but never beautiful.

Rachel looked in the direction he had indicated, something that looked like fear flashing in her eyes. "That would be Santana Lopez. She runs this place with an iron first, if I do say so myself."

"Huh." Was all Brett replied with.

"Why?" Rachel asked, almost hesitantly.

"Because that, my dear Berry, is going to be my future wife."

* * *

**Yes, no, maybe so?**


	2. Sticks And Stones

**Just Across The Tracks**

**Chapter Two**

Despite all of his previous worries, Brett actually found himself taking a liking to McKinley High.

He had effectively gotten kicked out of his first class, walked in half an hour late to his second, and managed to flood an entire bathroom all before lunch.

Though the last one was _kinda_ accidental.

He was just killing time before he headed to his third class of the day, and wanted to see how much toilet paper could fit in the tiny toilet.

He guessed three rolls.

He won.

The janitor certainly didn't, however.

Now, as he sauntered casually toward the cafeteria, he had a newly found sense of comfort and relaxation. No one dared to mess with the new kid.

Of course, they might have also been creeped out because he hadn't taken his sunglasses off once today, even during lessons.

They all probably thought that he was the blonde version of James Bond.

James _Blonde._

The blonde snickered quietly to himself.

God he was hilarious.

He was about to walk through the double doors that would lead him into cafeteria when he heard a commotion to his left, glancing over casually and completely doing a double take.

There stood his future wife, getting all worked up and waving her hands around emphatically, as if they alone proved whatever point she was trying to make. Her dark eyes flashed with a sexy sort of anger.

Well, to others it would probably be frightening.

But others weren't Brett, who was currently imagining the song "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye playing in the background while Santana moved in slow motion.

As nonchalantly as possible, the blonde badass checked his breath and straightened out his leather jacket, starting his walk over this his soon-to-be-but-not-really girlfriend.

Until he heard what he was actually being said.

And rather, _who _it was being said to.

"I'm sorry I ran into you Santana, I truly apologize. As much as I would like to rewind those few disastrous moments, I can't. So if we could-"

"Berry, how do you not exhaust yourself with your constant talking? Now I'd shut up before I go Lima Heights Adjacent on your sorry hobbit ass."

Brett's eyes flashed with irritation. He hadn't known Rachel for more than a few hours, but the girl seemed nice enough. Definitely too nice for such harsh words.

Without thinking, he finished his walk over and ignored the stares both girls gave him, the surrounding students doing the same.

"What seems to be the problem ladies?" Brett asked calmly, looking directly at Santana, one blonde eyebrow quirked up as if to say "try me".

"Oh, hello, Brett! Santana and I were just-"

"The hobbit was too busy looking for her precious ring that she didn't see precious _goods _walking right in front of her." Santana stated bluntly, but not rudely. Which confused the crowd of teens that had grown since Brett had arrived.

Since when was Santana Lopez _not _rude?

"Ah, I see." Brett replied, pretending to think for a moment. "And did you say sorry, Rachel?"

The smaller brunette nodded emphatically, clearly looking for a way to defuse this awkward situation. "Multiple times, I might add."

"Then what gives, Sweet Cheeks?" The blonde continued, cocking an eyebrow at the beautiful woman in front of him.

So what if she seemed bitchy, the girl was like a fucking angel.

Santana sneered in disgust, leaning away as if Brett could infect her just by breathing. "First off, do not _ever _address me as 'sweet cheeks', got it? Second off, what do you care what I say to the midget? It's none of your damn business."

Oh, so his future wife has sass in her.

He's down.

So down.

"Last time I checked, her name was _Rachel._ Now let's just stop all this madness and get down to business." Brett said flippantly, smiling his most charming smile.

Because really, he was just so freaking charming.

"What the hell are you talking about, Legally Blonde?" Santana asked irritably, still glaring at the tall boy's figure.

"Are you religious?"

"Are you on some kind of drugs or-"

"Cause you're the answer to all my prayers." Brett cut off any reply quickly, looking quite pleased with himself.

The hallway immediately fell into a mixture of reactions, some awing while others snickered at the damn cheesiness.

You could make nachos with all that freaking cheese.

Santana was among the few snickering rather loudly.

"You see this, honey?" The brunette gestured to her body and face rapidly, "You will never touch nor associate. I know you're new here so I'll let you go with a warning. Santana Lopez does _not _deal with wanna be boy band members who have a strange resemblance to Ellen Degeneres."

Throughout her entire rant, Brett's smirk stayed firmly in place.

Besides, Ellen was kinda hot.

If she was into guys, he'd be first in line.

"Sticks and stones," Brett shrugged, fixing his guarded gaze on Rachel. "You okay, firecracker?"

"Why yes, thank you, Brett." Rachel blushed, looking down shyly at her feet.

Santana fumed silently, unable to understand why she had such a horrible feeling in her stomach while watching this display.

Something just didn't sit right with her.

Brett made a move that looked as though he was making his leave, but decided better of it. He turned himself so he faced the cheerleader entirely.

Slowly the blonde badass moved his rough hands up to remove his sunglasses for the first time that day, revealing the brightest blue eyes most of the students in the hallway had ever seen.

"Oh, and by the way? Challenge accepted, Angel Eyes. And if there's one thing the world should know, a Pierce never backs down from a challenge."


	3. Mistakes Made

**Chapter Three**

By the time the final bell rang that day, Brett was fairly certain he had done a bang up job of making a good first impression.

Or a bad one?

What the hell does he care, he made it through the day without talking about ducks.

That alone is a feat he never thought he could achieve.

But like Martin Luther King Jr. always said, he had a dream and he reached it.

Then again, the very same man was shot brutally.

Moving on.

The blonde badass moved sluggishly out the front doors of McKinley High, teens rushing around him in attempt to get off campus as soon as possible. A genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw Rachel waiting for him on the steps.

She wasn't alone, however, as two boys with fantastically styled hair and impeccable fashion taste stood on either side of the tiny brunette.

What? He couldn't appreciate the beauty of a man?

"Hey, firecracker." Brett greeted kindly, turning to raise his infamous eyebrow at the other two boys, obviously expecting an introduction of some sort.

Rachel smiled in return, gesturing to the shorter black-haired boy on her right. "Hi, Brett. This is my friend, Blaine Anderson." She then turned to the boy with softer features and baby blue eyes. "And this is Kurt Hummel."

Brett barely managed to keep himself from chuckling as he watched Kurt from behind his tinted sunglasses. The guy was obviously giving him the one over none too subtly. And from his reaction, he apparently liked what he saw.

"_Pleasure _to meet you. Brett, is it?" Kurt flirted with a wink, reaching out a hand which Brett took awkwardly.

Bodily contact was not really his thing.

And by the way Blaine's body tensed up and his eyes narrowed, it obviously was not his thing as well.

"Isn't _my _boyfriend just the greatest?" Blaine stated clearly, making sure to emphasize that Kurt was taken.

Brett stood dumbfounded, staring at Rachel with a lost puppy dog expression. Too many people, too many questions.

Too much glamor and fashion for one blonde to handle.

Luckily, the small diva picked up on the tension in her new friend's shoulders.

"Guys," Rachel scolded, grabbing them each by the ear, eliciting embarrassed groans from each teen. "First impressions are _always _of utmost importance. You two of all people should be aware of this by now."

"Yes, Rachel," The two grumbled in unison, looking somewhat guilty.

Shaking his head out of the brunette's grip, Blaine glared at her once more before turning his gaze back over to the still silent Brett. His eyes softened before he spoke once again.

"We heard what you did for Rach today, and we really appreciate it. Any friend of Rachel's is a friend of ours." Blaine finished with a warm smile, Kurt following suit from his position next to the diva.

"Yeah, um. No problem. She's a pretty cool girl, don't sweat it." Brett fumbled out, obviously not used to accepting, or even _getting_, compliments often.

It felt oddly nice for the blonde, to have made a few genuine friends so quickly. Even though he had made it a mission to keep to himself, this small group of students didn't seem so bad.

In fact, they seemed pretty great.

"Anyways," Rachel broke the silence happily, "We were going to head over to my house and watch Funny Girl-"

"No, _you_ were going to watch Funny Girl while Blaine and I made sarcastic comments in the background."

"-and we were wondering if you'd like to join us." The brunette plowed on, undeterred by Kurt's playful eye roll.

It was true, after all.

Rachel would play Funny Girl each day as they got home from school while Blaine dozed off in the background, Kurt mimicking the character's voices in an octave five times higher than its original. Eventually, Rachel would rant about the respect Barbra so _clearly _deserved, and Kurt would choose to snicker quietly instead.

Jesus, they really needed a better social life.

"Well, I guess-" Brett started, but something in his mind told him to glance to his left. And damn, he was glad he listened.

Standing a few feet away from his motorcycle was Santana, talking with a blonde boy just an inch or two shorter than himself. His body was clad in a jock's jacket, and Brett narrowed his eyes dangerously, causing all three of his new found friends to step back slightly.

Blaine was the first to find his voice again, clearing his throat before speaking shakily. "Uh, y-you okay, there, buddy?"

"I'll be right back." Brett replied shortly, already stalking away toward the girl of his dreams and Douchey McDoucherpants.

Yeah, he was being immature.

But that was _his _future wife.

Granted, he didn't really know her and only had one conversation which wasn't all that pleasant.

Still.

Dibs, man. Dibs.

The head cheerleader spotted him over her friend's shoulders as he approached, scoffing in disbelief. "What the hell do you want, Ellen?"

The other fellow blonde turned around at Santana's outburst, confused hazel eyes meeting tinted plastic. Each boy raised an eyebrow at the exact same time.

To others, it might have been funny.

To them, it was a damn battle cry.

"Well?" Santana continued huffily, tapping her foot impatiently. The brunette would never admit it, but she found herself secretly enjoying the blonde's presence. Him and his stupid goofy smirk, and those damn sunglasses and perfect cheekbones. Stupid Brett Pierce.

"Who's this?" Brett asked sweetly as he spoke to Santana, then turning hostile and stiff as he faced the other boy.

"Look, I don't know _who _you think you are, but I don't even know you and-"

"The name's Quinn Fabray. Who wants to know?" The jock cut into Santana's rant, holding his ground as he stared intently at Brett.

Brett wondered if he should give his name or just grab Santana and run, but since he didn't want to get charged with kidnapping, he decided to go with option one. "It's Pierce, to you."

The badass angled his body toward Santana once again, his smirk full of mirth. "I leave you alone for a few hours and you've already replaced me, Angel Eyes? I'm hurt. Wounded, in fact." He clutched at his heart dramatically.

Even Quinn couldn't help but smile for a few moments at the goofiness, but remembered who he was talking to, and the smile was quickly wiped away.

Santana, however, remained smiling as Brett finished his impromptu performance, straightening up to continue.

"How about I take you out tonight? My treat." Brett asked, trying to keep all hints of hopefulness out of his deep voice.

"We actually have plans," Quinn answered coldly before the brunette could even open her mouth to respond. "Now beat it, loser. Don't you have trash to be picking up along some highway?"

Brett winced internally at the judgmental comment, but brushed it off.

New Brett didn't give a shit.

He couldn't get rid of the hurt that came with the rejection and idea of Santana being taken though, and couldn't help the next sentence that came out defensively. "Oh, sorry, bro. She's a cheerleader, I just assumed she was open for business."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Brett regretted them.

He watched as Santana's eyes filled momentarily with hurt and shock, then began to harden back to the guarded and angry look she seemed to give everyone else. The look Brett wanted to make sure he was never given.

Obviously, he failed.

"Let's go, Quinn," Santana stated abruptly, "I don't see why we're even associating with the new _scum _of the school."

Even though he deserved it, it still hurt to hear the words from his beautiful girl's lips.

Sure, he might have met her for the first time today but there was just something about her that entranced him. It was so confusing yet so satisfying at the same time.

"Santana, I'm sorry-"

"I said get lost." Quinn barked out, glaring at the badass. He put an arm around Santana's shoulders, eliciting a pang of jealousy and anger to ignite in Brett.

No other words were spoken as Santana and Quinn walked away purposefully, the shorter blonde whispering something into Santana's ear and Brett had to restrain himself from punching out the jock's lights.

Brett was glad he kept watching, though, as he caught Santana throwing a backwards glance over her shoulder, making eye contact once before quickly looking away.

It was enough for him.

He would win her over, he was sure of it.

He watched as Quinn helped her into a rich ass mustang, before glaring at him once more and stalking to the driver's side.

Brett shook his head emphatically and turned swiftly on his heels back toward his friends, who had been watching the exchange from afar with confused looks.

"Brett, are you okay?" Rachel asked concerned, the worry lines on Brett's forehead unsettling her. She cared about this boy, for some strange reason.

Maybe in a way she shouldn't.

"I'm fine," Brett shrugged weakly, trying to look as badass as possible when all he wanted to do was curl up with his teddy bear and fall asleep. "So, Funny Girl?"

Kurt, Blaine, and Rachel all smiled eagerly and nodded, glad to have added a new person to their daily ritual.


	4. More Than Meets The Eye

**Hey all! I thought I'd take a moment to address some reviews, which I love by the way! Yes, Quinn is a boy in this story. I've always admired the idea of a Boy!Quinn and Santana friendship, along with a Boy!Britt and Boy!Quinn friendship as well. **

**I'm glad you're all liking the story so far, and here's another chapter for all you lovely people! **

**Chapter Four **

If Brett had any qualms with letting in Rachel and her friends, they had completely dissipated after their hangout session.

Or rather, them ordering a vegan pizza (which actually was pretty good, despite Brett's hesitance) and watching Funny Girl for what was apparently Rachel's one thousandth time. According to Kurt, anyways.

Brett assumed he was over exaggerating.

Or at least he hoped so.

After saying a polite goodbye, Brett shrugged on his leather jacket and straddled his Harley, revving his engine once before taking off down Rachel's street, chuckling quietly as he heard the tiny brunette shouting safety precautions as he rode further away.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his hands clenched the handle bars just a bight tighter.

This is when the blonde felt most serene.

The wind blowing coolly against his pale cheeks, the world seeming to blur around him as he picked up more and more speed. He felt as if he was at peace with the universe, seeing and hearing the secrets that were kept from others on a daily basis.

He was pretty sure he sounded like Buddha at some point during that thought, but whatever.

And the best part was, he controlled it all.

One of the very few things he did control, in fact.

This thought quickly wiped the smile off his face, leaving him in a somber attitude for the rest of his journey home.

* * *

"And where the hell does he get off talking to me like that? Like I'm some kind of...of _whore_! What a fucking dick," Santana spit out ruthlessly, pacing back and forth as her hands ran through her silky hair.

Quinn rolled his eyes, sitting on top of his bed and watching as his best friend basically had a mental breakdown.

From the moment he laid eyes on the two, Quinn knew his friend had it bad. Which was rare because, come on, it was Santana.

He sooner expected dogs to start taking shits in the toilet before Santana found someone she truly liked.

But something seemed off about this Brett Pierce, whether it was his attitude or the way he looked constantly troubled, the blonde jock didn't know.

But he would be damned if he let that James Dean knock off break his best friend's heart.

"You don't even know the guy, San," Quinn tried, attempting to erase the worry lines on the brunette's forehead. "His opinion is definitely invalid."

The brunette in question whipped around on the balls of her feet, sending an icy glare at Quinn, which actually made the boy flinch a little.

Damn, Santana could be scary when she wanted to be.

She raised a perfectly manicured finger and pointed it directly in the blonde's face. "_Invalid_? He just-but he-and I-" Santana couldn't find the right words to describe her anger at this point.

Or maybe, she just didn't understand _why _she was so upset as well.

All she knew was Brett Pierce could definitely get under her skin. And, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she nearly liked him being there.

God, she hadn't even known the guy for one damn day.

She wouldn't be surprised if they ended up on some episode of the Maury show next week.

"Hey," Quinn smiled softly, prodding more gently as he saw the distress written clearly on his best friend's face, "Why don't we just watch a movie and forget about this, alright? I'll even sing along to Grease with you if you want."

Quinn actually hated Grease, but it was definitely worth it when Santana's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

* * *

Brett exhaled sharply as he pulled off his helmet, finding himself staring at the wooden house before him, the paint chipping off noticeably and each window streaked with a thin coat of dirt.

Home sweet home.

He'd rather live in a pineapple at this point.

Become Spongebob and adopt a snail named Gary.

But, alas, snails frightened him.

As fucking weird as that sounds.

He dismounted quickly, putting down his kickstand before making his way toward the half-rotted door, the gravel of the driveway crunching beneath his boots.

Each step seemed louder in his ears and he felt his heart become slightly lighter.

Yeah, maybe his place wasn't all daisies and rainbows, but he smiled hugely, knowing that soon he'd come face to face with-

The air was knocked out of him as a small body crashed unsteadily into his, Brett's arms instantly wrapping around his welcomed attacker as they clung to his leg. He lifted the body with ease, pressing a soft kiss to their cheek and smiling affectionately at the blue eyes staring back into his.

"Hey buddyboy, did you have a good day?"

* * *

The next day at school Santana hadn't run into Brett Pierce once, and to be honest, it irritated the absolute crap out of her.

Who does he think he is? Insulting her and then not even having the nerve to show his face?

She huffed impatiently while Quinn and Finn Hudson were talking about some football game that they had just _barely _lost. She could see her friend gesturing wildly out of the corner of her eye, Finn nodding rapidly in agreement and fist bumping with him.

She rolled her eyes at that.

Quinn could be such a guy sometimes.

Right before she was about to give up her search, the crowds of students separated, and there was the blonde she had been looking for.

She felt like he was Moses parting the Red Sea.

Or she just had some bad tuna last night and was tripping hardcore.

Either way.

The badass was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, a lanyard hanging from his left pocket and a simple white v-neck clinging to his sculpted chest. His blonde locks were styled messily on top of his head, looking as though he had just woken up. And of course, those damn sunglasses remained over those beautiful eyes.

Wait...beautiful?

She meant blue.

_Blue._

She was about to strut purposefully toward the boy in question, demanding to get some answers of why he felt he could judge her so suddenly, when she watched as the small hobbit came bouncing toward him, throwing her arms around his lanky figure.

Dark eyes narrowed dangerously as she watched Brett reciprocate the hug, and actually seem comfortable with it, unlike yesterday.

She watched as they pulled apart, lips turning down slightly when she actually got a good look at Brett's face.

He looked worn, and wary of all that was going on around him. Almost strained, she thought.

She shook her head emphatically at these thoughts.

No, _he _called her some easy whore.

And she was about to let him know that messing with McKinley's head bitch in charge was his biggest mistake.

She ignored her friend's confused questioning as she strutted away to one of Quinn's fellow football players who stood off to the side across the hall, a blue slushy held in one hand.

After whispering some words into the jock's ears, a devilish smirk grew on Santana's face, as well as the large boy she had whispered to in the first place.

Quinn eyed the situation from afar, shaking his head and sighing quietly, knowing exactly what was happening.

Without another word, the jock strode almost giddily over to where Brett and Rachel were standing, Brett having only a moment to look up in confusion before his face was met with a wall of ice, blue streaks leaking down his shirt and drenching his now-stained hair.

Santana was waiting for the satisfied feeling to wash over her, but it never came.

Only guilt.

As if reading her mind, Brett turned his head directly to Santana, and to her surprise , she found nothing but softness written on his features.

She heard him excuse himself politely from Rachel's company, even as the tiny brunette fussed over him and his slushy state.

Slowly he walked over until he came to a halt right in front of the head cheerleader, blue liquid still dripping from his face and ruining his white shirt.

"I deserved that," He stated bluntly, his tone soft and airy. "And I cannot express how rude it was of me to make that comment yesterday, and I wish I could take it back. However," He smiled ruefully, running a hand through ice chunks on his head, spiking his hair in a fashion that made Santana smile inwardly, "I can't turn back time. But I _am_ sorry. I'll see you around, Angel Eyes."

And with that, the blonde turned around and made his way to his third class of the day, Rachel, Quinn, and Santana's eyes all following him as he went.

Maybe there was more to Brett Pierce than they all had originally thought.


	5. A Bend In The Road

**Chapter Five**

It seemed as though the blonde badass was doing a damn good job of laying low the next few weeks at McKinley. There were no fights, no flooding of bathrooms, and no being late to class.

There was, however, an incident with the chemicals in his science class.

You couldn't blame him for that one though.

He just wanted to see if he could be a secret Jimmy Neutron in disguise.

That shit obviously didn't go well if Mr. Harrison's non-existent eyebrows had anything to say about it.

But while Brett seemed to be doing a good job of ignoring the incident that had occurred a few weeks prior, Santana found that she couldn't take her mind off of it.

Those electric blue eyes that held so many emotions, she could just get lost in them.

His calm attitude yet rocky demeanor.

His-

_Woah!_ _Calm the fuck down_, she chastised herself mentally as she finished changing in the Cheerios locker room. She was the only one left after a grueling practice. Quinn was waiting for her in his car outside, so she picked up the pace just a tad.

And _only _a tad.

Quinn was her best friend, but Santana Lopez still didn't rush for anyone.

After tying up her hair in its signature tight ponytail, she clutched her bag against her body and made her way out of the locker room, walking along the track to her ride.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw a lone figure jogging on the other side.

A flash of blonde hair definitely got her attention.

She angled her body toward the stranger, taking in his bare, chiseled chest and loose fitting running shorts. And...those sunglasses.

Brett.

Santana watched in fascination and curiosity as the mysterious boy pushed himself faster and harder, sweat clearly present on his body, even from a far distance. He seemed zoned out, or maybe it was just her imagination.

And holy hell, why was she watching some guy she hardly knew like a creeper?

She shook her head emphatically, tearing her eyes away and continuing her walk to Quinn's car.

"Santana?"

She had been watching for so long that she hadn't even noticed Brett was already so close to her, in his shirtless, beautiful glory.

What?

Doesn't mean she's in love with him. Or those eyes. Or those muscles. Or that cute ass-

"Um, hello?" Brett tried again awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his glistening neck. Should he call for help or...?

Santana jumped slightly, finally brought back from her musing. Brett could have sworn he saw a slight blush creep across those perfect cheekbones.

He smiled on the outside this time, a genuine smile at that.

Santana truly was beautiful.

"Stop staring at me like that!" Santana snapped, glaring at the random ass guy who just seemed to be making her fall apart at the seams.

Brett held up his hands as a show of surrender, his signature smirk still playing on his lips. "My apologies, Angel Eyes. I saw you standing here looking a little lost, thought I could help you out."

He could definitelyhelp her out, he thought dreamily, but stopped that thought short.

New Brett might be an ass, but all girls deserve more respect than that_._

"Just-you-ugh!" The brunette rambled, scrunching up her face in frustration. "Just stay away from me, okay?"

Brett watched on with an amused facial expression, letting out a short chuckle as he wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead. "But wasn't it _you _who was watching _me_?"

Oh, shit. So he _did_ see.

Before she could respond, Brett was already starting on another lap, his broad shoulders shaking in what looked like laughter.

Santana wasn't ashamed in the least to say that she watched his ass as he went.

And damn, she liked what she saw.

* * *

"When were you going to tell me about your sexual escapades with Santana Lopez, Brett Pierce!"

Brett rolled his eyes for the thousandth time, readjusting his feet that were currently propped up on Rachel's coffee table.

The tiny diva had already asked him about ten times to take them off, but it was just so comfortable and when he pulled the puppy dog face, Rachel finally caved.

"First of all, who even says sexual escapades anymore?" Brett looked at his friend incredulously, plowing on before Rachel could interrupt. "And second of all, Santana spits on the ground I walk upon. Besides, maybe she's just not my type like I thought." He shrugged noncommittally, hoping Rachel wouldn't see through his lie.

Rachel seemed to frown at this from her spot on the recliner for whatever reason. And Brett didn't like it one bit.

"What's wrong with short brunettes, Brett? They are highly appealing to many people, thank you very much!" And now her sadness seemed to turn to anger.

Maybe Brett wasn't the only one with a personality disorder.

Brett's inner Lola could cook up some Mexican food for Rachel's inner crazy person too.

Then again, Rachel was just always crazy. So Lola could just cook for _all _of Rachel's crazy.

"Um, no, nothing's wrong with them. I don't really want to talk about it, firecracker." He honestly hoped she'd get the hint and just leave it at that. And she did.

They continued to watch TV in an awkward silence until Rachel got up from the recliner and sat down next to Brett on the couch, leaning into his side and throwing an arm around his middle.

The blonde smiled softly, he knew he hadn't upset his new friend. He was glad.

It was quiet for a few moments before Rachel's voice broke through the silence once again.

"Do you like her? People are talking and I see the way you look at her." Her voice was small, shy. Brett had no idea why.

"I don't know what I like anymore, Rach."

And the two left it at that once again.

* * *

The next morning Brett was late to school, and for once, he actually cared.

He had a project due and if he didn't turn it in, he would actually flunk out of the class before the damn thing had actually begun.

He revved his engine faster, feeling the wind whip at his face and flutter harshly against his gray and black baseball shirt. His sunglasses pushed deeper into the corneas of his eyes as his speed further increased. When he stopped at the first intersection, he glanced over to his left out of impatience, and had to do a double take.

Of fucking course.

They just had to be late on the same damn day.

There in the next lane was Quinn Fabray's mustang, Santana sitting up and center in the passenger seat. As if feeling his stare, she looked over and chocolate brown eyes widened in surprise, before a soft smile played across her full lips.

That lasted for all of a second before her eyebrows furrowed and her normal scowl was back into place.

Brett still thought she had never looked more beautiful.

Quinn chose that time to acknowledge his presence, narrowing his eyes and revving his own again as if challenging Brett to race.

And hell if he was one to back down from a challenge.

Both boys nodded slightly to the other, Santana looking confusedly between the two of them, not quite understanding what was about to happen.

When the light turned green, both the mustang and motorcycle roared down the street like bats out of hell, Brett getting slightly nervous as a curve in the road up ahead came closer and closer.

Quinn could easily maneuver around it with his car, but the taller blonde's wheels might not be able to handle the lack of traction.

Slowly, Brett slowed as Quinn still shot forward ahead. Brett was able to see Santana looking furious, swatting at Quinn as if he had just kicked her puppy.

The only thing was, Brett was too focused on the beautiful girl to notice how close the turn actually was, and as his eyes widened behind his tinted sunglasses, he yanked his handlebars to the left and put down his foot as a last ditch effort.

Both Quinn and Santana watched in horror as the badass they had known for only a few short weeks skidded off of the street and into the bushes along side it.

Well.

Fuck.


End file.
